Showing posts with label City Notes for Inspiring Books - 2019. Show all posts
Showing posts with label City Notes for Inspiring Books - 2019. Show all posts

Sunday, May 9, 2021

Sophie Scholl Centennial | Knock a Chip Out of the Wall


"Such a glorious, sunny day and I must go. But what will my death matter if, because of our actions, thousands of people are wakened and stirred to action?!" + Sophie Scholl on the day she was executed


Sophie Scholl would have turned 100 years old today. To see a potent version of her story with the White Rose resistance on film, I encourage you to watch the Academy Award-nominated film for best foreign film Sophie Scholl: The Final Days. To get a preview of her life from Vintage Saints and Sinners, check out the excerpt below.



"Sophie Scholl: Knock a Chip Out of the Wall" excerpt adapted from Karen Marsh's Vintage Saints and Sinners: 25 Christians Who Transformed My Faith





As in many heroic tales, Sophie's story begins quietly. She was born in Germany in 1921, a time of national scarcity, political violence, and unemployment. Nurtured by their free-thinking Christian parents, the five Scholl children grew up on Socrates, Augustine, and Pascal. They read the texts of Buddhism, Confucius, and the Qur'an. And, of course, they learned the Bible. Verses like James 1:22, "But be ye doers of the Word, and not hearers only." The kids learned early on words must be made real in actions. As the lone pacifist in their tiny conservative hamlet, their father, Robert, admonished them, "What I want for you is to live in uprightness and freedom of spirit, no matter how difficult that proves to be." In fact, this would ultimately cost them everything.

Sophie was only twelve years old when Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933. One by one, the Scholl children joined the Hitler Youth, proud to help Germany achieve prosperity. Sophie relished camping, hiking, and scouting with the Young Girls' League. Her older brother Hans was chosen to cary the flag of his six-hundred-member regiment at the 1936 Nuremberg Nazi Party Convention. 

From the very start, Robert opposed the new fuhrer, for he perceived malignant intentions behind Hitler's brash promises. Father and son argued constantly about the Hans's nationalistic enthusiasms. Robert dreaded what lay ahead, declaring, "If those bastards harm my children in any way, I'll go to Berlin and shoot Hitler." Soon the children caught on. Even little Sophie saw that something was very wrong when two of her Jewish girlfriends were barred from her local Girls' League. As a teenager, Sophie became quite open about her hatred of the aggression of the Third Reich. "I will never understand it; I think it is horrible. Do not say it is for the fatherland," she wrote to her boyfriend, Fritz, an officer in the German army.

The Scholls began to resist the status quo. Sophie was reprimanded for reading banned books. Hans was imprisoned for removing the Nazi emblem from his youth troop's flag. Robert was arrested for calling Hitler names.

Like other German teenagers, Sophie was drafted into Nazi service. She endured her term as nameless "labor maid" at the unheated, decrepit Krauchenweis castle. After a day of mandatory field work, as the other girls gossiped and laughed on their bunks, Sophie pulled the blanket over her head and read Saint Augustine by flashlight.


Sophie Scholl Saint Augustine Prayer in "Sophie Scholl: The Final Days"

As she pulled weeds out in the blooming poppy fields, Sophie had plenty of time to reflect. "Isn't it a tremendous enigma and ... almost frightening, that everything is so beautiful? In spite of the terrible things that are going on," Sophie wrote to a friend that night. Convinced nonetheless that God will always have the last word against violence, Sophie vowed, "I will try to take the victor's side."


On her twenty-first birthday, Sophie was on a train at last, off to begin her college studies alongside her brother at the university in Munich. Hans welcomed Sophie into his band of buddies — Christoph, Willi, and Alexander. The close confidantes shared a love of art, literature, classical music, hiking philosophical debate — and a fierce opposition to Hitler. But Munich's Maximilian University was no shelter for dissent. It was an intellectual stronghold of National Socialism governed by a high-ranking SS officer and a site of Nazi book burning.

As grim news came that members of the Resistance had been captured, Hans felt convicted by the old Scholl family principle: you've got to stand up for what's right, no matter the cost. Hans saw that the Communists were taking a stand. Why not the followers of Jesus? "It's high time that Christians made up their minds to do something!" he said to his friends. "What are we going to show in the way of resistance when all this terror is over?" he asked them. "We will be standing empty-handed. We will have no answer when we are asked: What did you do about it?" Hans, Sophie, Christoph, Willi, and Alexander, along with Professor Kurt Huber, formed a secret group they name the White Rose. They imagined the Third Reich as an enormous stone wall of impossibility. As the White Rose, they would discover ways, however small, to knock chips out of the wall.




They believed, with the optimism of youth, that if only their fellow citizens knew the truth about Hitler, things would change; their tangible acts of non-violent resistance would spark an uprising and end the war. At night they painted the walls of university and public buildings, declaring in large black block letters, "DOWN WITH HITLER!" and "LONG LIVE FREEDOM!" The members of the White Rose came from Protestant, Catholic, and Russian Orthodox backgrounds, and they shared the convictions of the Christian faith. As it happened, the inspiration for their boldest action came from a Roman Catholic minister, Bishop Clemens August von Galen. From the pulpit, Galen condemned Nazi eugenics, the program ordering the murder of the mentally ill, physically deformed, and incurably sick. Galen's subversive sermons were transcribed, copied, and circulated secretly by hand — and roused widespread opposition. "Finally someone has the courage to speak," Hans exclaimed, "and all you need is a duplicating machine!"

The White Rose covertly wrote, printed, and distributed thousands of illegal flyers, messages of protest and warning: "We must bring this monster of a state to an end soon." "The war is approaching its certain end." "Hitler cannot win the war — he can only prolong it." They left leaflets in public phone booths, university hallways, and mailboxes. At great risk, they traveled by train to mail anonymous letters from other German cities so that the flyers would bear postmarks from across the country. With a cunning that today's social media gurus would admire, the tiny group created the illusion of a large-scale movement.

Leaders of the Third Reich were desperate to know who was behind the notorious White Rose campaign. The truth came out by chance. On February 18, 1943, Hans and Sophie Scholl stood at the top of a staircase high above the university courtyard just as classes were about to let out. Sophie opened a suitcase of leaflets and emptied it over the balustrade. As hundreds of flyers fluttered down in a blizzard of paper, a janitor stepped out into the hall and saw the brother and sister. He grabbed the pair in a citizen's arrest and consigned them to the Gestapo to be imprisoned and interrogated. Within four short days, Hans, Sophie, and their friend Christoph Probst would be on trial for their lives.


Sophie Scholl Prayer in "Sophie Scholl: The Final Days"

How terrified Sophie must have been. In a private moment, she wrote, "I shall cling to the rope God has thrown me in Jesus Christ, even if my numb hands can no longer feel it." But in the courtroom, without a single witness called in their defense, people say that Sophie, Hans, and Christoph remained calm, composed, clear, unflinching as they were condemned to die. The infamous Nazi judge raged and screamed at the young defendants, roaring until his voice cracked, jumping up again and again in a red-hot frenzy. Standing before him, the twenty-one-year-old Sophie broke in calmly and boldly declared, "Somebody after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed by many others. They just don't dare to express themselves."

The court's guilty verdict was swift and merciless. Spoken after a night of inexplicably calm sleep, Sophie's parting words to her cell mate were: "Such a glorious, sunny day, and I must go. But how many must die on the battlefields, how many promising young men. ... What will my death matter if, because of our actions, thousands of people will be awakened and stirred to action!"

As they faced their execution by guillotine on that very same day, Sophie and Hans had only moments to say goodbye to their parents. Holding their hands through the prison bars, Hans reassured them, "I have no hatred. I have put everything, everything behind me." 

Grasping at something, anything, to comfort her daughter in this heartrending farewell, their mother, Magdalene, said, "Remember, Sophie: Jesus." Sophie paused, and then firmly, almost imperiously, her eyes locked on her mother's, replied. "Yes," she said, "but you must remember, too." She was the daughter of Robert and Magdalene, the parents who raised their children to follow uprightness and freedom of spirit. It is horrible how many Christians risk their lives in the war for an outright senseless cause, Sophie lamented, yet "hardly a single person is willing to risk his life to fight Evil. Someone must do it." As she contended before the Gestapo judge: "Somebody had to make a start." 




A prayer of blessing is offered by Sophie and another is offered to Sophie in the film, "Sophie Scholl: The Final Days" by the prison minister, Alt. Here are the words of the prayers:

Sophie: My God, glorious Father, transform this ground into fertile earth so your seeds may not fall in vain. Let the longing grow for You, the Creator, that they so often do not want to see. Amen.
Alt: May God the Father bless you who created you in His image. May God the Son bless you whose suffering and death redeems you. May God the Holy Spirit bless you who leads you to His temple and hallows you. May the Trinity judge you with mercy and grant you eternal life. Amen.

The prison warden, awed by their courage, made an exception to allow Hans, Sophie, and Christoph to have one last cigarette together. He heard Christoph say, "I didn't know that dying could be so easy. In a few minutes we meet again in eternity?" As he put his head on the block, it is said that Hans cried out in a loud voice, "Long live freedom!" 

Thanks to Helmut von Moltke, the sixth leaflet of the White Rose was taken to England via Scandinavia. In mid-1943, millions of copies were dropped by Allied planes over Germany. They now bore the title: "A German Leaflet Manifesto of the Students of Munich."





Soli Jesu gloria.

Christ is all,


Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

CN Vintage Saints + Sinners | Dorothy Day: Start Some Trouble



"Don't call me a saint. I don't want to be dismissed so easily. ... Heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet too, even if all we have to share is a crust of bread." + Dorothy Day


In honor of Mary and her Magnificat (see previous Advent + The Magnificat posts: A Divine Disruption for GoodThe Bold & Courageous First Christmas Hymn, and Exalting God Reveals the Power to Fill Us and Transform Us), I wanted to highlight 4 other women during these 4 weeks of Advent to showcase how others have followed in Mary's footsteps in giving up their lives and opening their mouths to sing a song of resistance that shines in the darkness: that Jesus Christ seeks to be born in us to share and show the Good News of God's Kingdom of mercy, justice, and righteousness, bringing flashes of heaven to earth when the world seems at its darkest.

The first three women featured were Fannie Lou Hamer, an African American Baptist; Mary Paik Lee, a Korean Presbyterian; and Sophie Scholl, a German Lutheran:


City Notes Magnificat Special '19 | Vintage Saints + Sinners: Fannie Lou Hamer: Stand Up, Sing Out!  
City Notes Magnificat Special '19 | Vintage Saints + Sinners: Mary Paik Lee: Taste the Bittersweet  
City Notes Magnificat Special '19 | Vintage Saints + Sinners: Sophie Scholl: Knock a Chip Out of the Wall


And this final post will feature the American Roman Catholic Dorothy Day. 





"Dorothy Day: Start Some Trouble" excerpt adapted from Karen Marsh's Vintage Saints and Sinners: 25 Christians Who Transformed My Faith


As a little girl, Dorothy was drawn to the saints of the Catholic tradition, those noble people who ministered to the sick and suffering. But something really bothered her. Why this determined energy toward softening the effects of evil? Why not change the social systems that caused the suffering? Some saints ministered to slaves, but why not do away with slavery itself? she asked.

Well, if gentle, pious Christians weren't going to actually change the world, then Dorothy would do it without them. After college, she threw herself into progressive politics, marched with pacifists and was arrested with suffragettes. She wrote for socialist newspapers. Among Marxists, pacifists, anarchists, and atheists in bohemian Greenwich Village, the activist life energized her. But after some time had passed, worn out by an affair with a married man, an abortion, and a failed marriage, Dorothy ended on up on a Staten Island beach, living in an unheated fisherman's shack with Forster Batterham, the man she loved. Forster was an honest, independent atheist who could never concede to the "empty form" of a legal marriage license. The couple wrote and worked and walked for miles each day, absorbing the brisk beauty of the world around them.

Dorothy felt the pull of the Holy Spirit there; she wrote in her journal, "I am surprised that I am beginning to pray daily." But Forster was incensed by the very notion of religion, so Dorothy kept her prayers to herself. Out on the beach, Dorothy sang the "Te Deum," the ancient hymn of praise to God who fills the earth with glory. As she swept the cottage, she improvised devotions. She murmured the Lord's Prayer as she walked to the post office. Marx's old phrase "Religion is the opiate of the people" interrupted Dorothy's thoughts, and yet praise of God came to her unbidden. She was praying out of simple, natural happiness. When she gave birth to a daughter she named Tamar, Dorothy's joy was complete. The final object of this love and gratitude, she knew, was God.


"The World Will Be Saved by Beauty" by Doroth Day's granddaughter, Kate Hennessy

Dorothy knew that owning her spiritual transformation would cost her dearly, and indeed it did. When she had Tamar baptized and joined the Church herself in baptism, the result was a searing split with her beloved partner. Dorothy agonized, worried that she'd become one of those Christian hypocrites. She wrote, "I felt I was betraying the class to which I belonged, the workers and the poor of the world, with whom Christ spent His life." Dorothy struggled to bring her newfound love for God together with her lifelong passion to transform society for the better. 

Dorothy and Tamar moved back to New York City, back to urban existence. There she met Peter Maurin an older Frechman in a tattered suit, pockets stuffed with books and papers. Peter was a vibrant Christian of an unfamiliar sort. He argued that the surest way to find God, to find the good, is through service to one's brothers and sisters. To love others is to love Christ, he said. God brought Peter along to chart Dorothy's faith-filled purpose in the world. The city was crammed with desperate, unemployed people made homeless by the Great Depression. Where would they begin? Peter's plan was to start a newspaper and open up houses of hospitality and farming communes, relying on God to provide the funds. In their Catholic Worker penny newspapers, they wrote that Christ's self-sacrificing love made possible "a society where it is easier for people to be good."

Peter and Dorothy started the lay Catholic Worker Movement during a time of economic and human crisis, determined to live out Jesus' commandment to love their needy neighbors, quite literally, by sharing without imposing conditions or limits. Their gutsy personal charity was for real: they welcomed strangers, shared everything. The first Catholic Worker house of hospitality started a whole movement, sustained to this day, a Christian witness of nonviolence, voluntary poverty, prayer, and inclusion.

She Might Be a Saint: Recalling Dorothy Day And Her Way of Nonviolence, Voluntary Poverty, Prayer, and Radical Hospitality

With her enduring passion for reform, Dorothy combined works of mercy and a daring brand of "political holiness." Direct action along the path of justice and peace was a way of serving Jesus, so she began each morning at worship with the Church and then hit the streets. Dorothy's unbounded generosity blew people away; they just didn't know how to reconcile her piety and politics. Coming out of jail, age seventy-five. Standing in front of a microphone addressing protesters. Serious, intent, determined. This is the Dorothy tracked by the FBI, condemned by President Herbert Hoover as a threat to national security. She's the public troublemaker who disturbs complacency.

The human, more colorful Dorothy comes through in her confessional writings. Yes, she admits, it really is raving lunacy to give up your own bed, food, and hospitality to any old stranger in need. But that needy person hasn't arrived to symbolically remind you of Christ. No, in "plain and simple and stupendous fact," your guest is, quite literally, Jesus (see Matthew 25:34-40). The Bible shows how ordinary people like Martha, Mary, and Lazarus welcomed Jesus and so can you; there's no excuse. Christ is all around you, meeting you in friends and outsiders. The glass of water you give to a beggar is given to Him. 

Dorothy insists that in the end we will be judged by our acts of mercy, so heaven hinges on the way we act toward Jesus in His frail, ordinary human form (see Matthew 25:31-46). As long as families still need bread, clothing, shelter, Dorothy says "we must keep repeating these things. Eternal life begins now." So don't point to some distant dream of glowing redemption — let's make life today look more like heaven. Get out there and make a difference in Jesus' name. We might hide behind the excuse that our gestures are doomed to failure. We might even complain about the ingratitude we receive in exchange for the good that we do. Dorothy doesn't let us off the hook. She declares that our actions are measured by love, not by success. She assures us that God will repay us — eventually. If we love Jesus, then choosing to serve is simple. "Don't call me a saint! she remarks. "I don't want to be dismissed that easily." She is unflappable. Dorothy is also often quoted as saying, "The coat which hangs in your closet belongs to the poor." In her memoir, The Long Loneliness, she writes that heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet too, even if all that we have to share is a crust of bread. Hers is a vision of companionship, of evenings on the beach with friends and family, praying with eyes open to the glow of an eternal life that begins now.


Dorothy Day with Christ
Jesus Himself has told us that we can rely on God to provide for all of our needs. Dorothy constantly reminds us of this promise — and pushes us to act as if it's actually true. Dorothy both attracts and repels us, that loving, troublemaking follower of Jesus who lived what she believed. She's a saint who won't be easily dismissed.

Next post: 
City Notes '20 | He Speaks in the Silence: The Fear & the Fury & the Beautiful No

Here are links to previous City Notes books:

Soli Jesu gloria.




Christ is all,


Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us

Sunday, December 15, 2019

CN Vintage Saints + Sinners | Mary Lee: Taste the Bittersweet



"God must surely be leading us in the right direction." + Mary Paik Lee


In honor of Mary and her Magnificat (see previous Advent + The Magnificat posts: A Divine Disruption for GoodThe Bold & Courageous First Christmas Hymn, and Exalting God Reveals the Power to Fill Us and Transform Us), I wanted to highlight 4 other women during these 4 weeks of Advent to showcase how others have followed in Mary's footsteps in giving up their lives and opening their mouths to sing a song of resistance that shines in the darkness: that Jesus Christ seeks to be born in us to share and show the Good News of God's Kingdom of mercy, justice, and righteousness, bringing flashes of heaven to earth when the world seems at its darkest.
The first was African American Baptist Fannie Lou Hamer:


City Notes Magnificat Special '19 | Vintage Saints + Sinners: Fannie Lou Hamer: Stand Up, Sing Out!


Next is Korean Presbyterian Mary Paik Lee. 

Mary Paik Lee's Quiet Odyssey, originally titled, Life Is Bittersweet


"Mary Paik Lee: Taste the Bittersweet" excerpt adapted from Karen Marsh's Vintage Saints and Sinners: 25 Christians Who Transformed My Faith


Mary, born Kuang Sun Paik, was born to Korean parents who lived as a scholarly, prosperous family. Then one day, Mary's father welcomed into their lives an American missionary and taught him the Korean language — the same man who, in turn, translated the Bible into Korean. By rendering the Bible into a very simple alphabetical system, Western missionaries appealed to Koreans excluded from wealthier classes; Bibles were among the first written materials to be distributed among the common people, spreading both literacy and Christian belief.

The Paiks joined the expanding ranks of new Korean believers in Jesus. Christianity introduced transformative principles. Readers discovered unaccustomed notions of freedom in the Bible. Korean women, in particular, zealously embraced Christian teachings that challenged traditional Confucianism's bonds of female subjugation. Whereas respectable women had been forbidden outdoors during daylight hours, evangelistic "Bible women" traveled unimpeded to share their faith. Leaders in the Korean independence movement, many educated in missionary schools, would be emboldened by Jesus' liberating words as they sought to break free from long Chinese and Japanese domination.

Mary's Christian parents and grandparents flourished as teachers, business owners, and ministers until the day invading Japanese military forces commandeered their home and forced them onto the street. Under threat of war and violence, Mary's parents hurriedly gathered their small children and set sail for Hawaii, where Mr. Paik was promised work on a sugar plantation. Looking back, Mary wrote with esteem, "Such strong quiet courage in ordinary people in the face of danger is really something to admire and remember always."

Courage would be required, great courage, for decades of interminable hardship were to come. Conditions in Hawaii were miserable: the family slept on the ground of a fruit plantation without a nickel to buy bananas. The Paiks moved on to California in 1906, a time when there were no more than seven thousand Korean immigrants in all of North America. Walking down the gangplank of the ship in San Francisco, Mary wrote, "We must have been a very strange-looking group." They were accosted by a gang of young white men who spit in their faces, kicked up Mrs. Paik's skirts, and shouted incomprehensible insults.

Why would we come to a place we are not wanted? the alarmed six-year-old girl asked her parents. Mary's father told her to remember the very first Christian missionaries to Korea, those strangers who'd traveled far across the sea only to be harshly persecuted as "white devils." As people of Christ in a new land, the Paiks would endure too, for God had led them there. They'd study hard and work hard and show Americans their true worth. Even little Mary had to prove her strength. On her first day at Washington Irving School, Mary was surrounded by girls who hit her neck as they mocked her with a song, "Ching Chong, Chinaman, sitting on a wall. Along came a white man, and chopped his head off." Over the years, childish cruelty was matched by adult disdain, expressed in exclusionary laws and everyday offenses. Shut out of neighborhoods and public spaces ("For Whites Only!") and continually derided ("Dirty Jap!"), the Paiks struggled to simply stay alive. Legal codes barring Asians from most businesses codified the racism of fearful white Americans, citizens who didn't bother to see the differences between Chinese, Japanese, and Korean people who say only nameless Asians, foreigners, outsiders. They certainly didn't care that the Paik family had suffered from Japanese aggression too.

Without money, the Paiks subsisted on flour and salt. Mary recounts how, for months, her mother served them one tiny biscuit and a tin cup of water three times a day. Nonetheless, when the family sat down to eat, Mary's father always prayed, thanking God for all their blessings, something that never failed to irritate Mary. After one more starvation dinner, the child confronted her dad and asked how they could possibly be grateful. Mr. Paik responded with a question of his own, "Don't you remember why we came here?" The rest of their family back in Korea was suffering even more under the brutal Japanese occupation. They would thank God no matter the circumstance. Mary names this moment when, for the first time, she saw beyond her own discomfort and awakened to "the realities of life" and the suffering of others. She drank water to fill her aching stomach, slept, and then got up to hunt for a house-cleaning job. Mary found work with a family who required her to come before school, after school, and then all day Saturday and Sunday — a job for which she was paid one dollar a week.

The young Korean girl trembled at the injustice of her situation. She was tormented by churchgoing Americans: white people who never knew that her family had taken pity on hapless American missionaries in Asia, taught them the Korean language, joined their Presbyterian church, and gone house to house to spread the Gospel of love. As Mary spent another Sunday ironing from morning until nightfall, the eleven-year-old asked herself: where was their loving God now, in lonely California? Not in the well-appointed Presbyterian sanctuary on Main Street, apparently. When a friendly high school classmate learned that Mary was Presbyterian too, she invited Mary to meet her at the church one Sunday morning. Mary's father, "always the optimist," gave her permission, saying, "Why not? Maybe times are changing." When they arrived early for the worship service, the four Paik children were blocked at the front steps by the minister who snarled, "I don't want dirty Japs in my church," and sent them away, shouting, "Go to hell!"

And yet the Paiks always found their own ways to create Christian community. Whether they lived in an improvised shack or an abandoned barn, on Sundays they invited other immigrant families to come over for a time of worship. Everyone sang hymns and prayed, Mr. Paik preached a short sermon, and then Mrs. Paik shared whatever meager food they had for lunch without ever passing around an offering plate. Somehow, together, they always had enough to share. Mary would always remember her parents as the handsome, forward-looking couple who left Korea in 1905, confident that God would lead and provide, even in the face of evidence to the contrary. They held fast to the promise from Hebrews 11: "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." In her own time, Mary took up her family's strong faith and the risky hope that it demanded.

Mary believed that life was bittersweet — and she didn't let the sweet go by unnoticed. She married H.M. Lee, a Korean man who'd emigrated to Mexico. The two made a life together in California, planting rice and selling fruit. In their rental house, an old building with no bathroom and no hot water, Mary said, "I felt rich with so many things for the first time in my life," even a toothbrush and toothpaste. When the oldest of their three sons, Henry, attended Georgetown and earned his PhD, she saw it as the fulfillment of hope for things not seen. Mary's husband died in old age (with a big smile on his face, she notes) but he left her with a priceless legacy: "a feeling of great solace that makes life worth living."

For all of Mary's experiences of toxic anti-Asian prejudice, she lived long enough to see oppressive laws change and a new cultural landscape emerge. In 1990, at the end of her life, she was gratified to note that "(Asian Americans) are able to work almost everywhere now," demonstration of a patiently awaited miracle from heaven. She saw her personal sacrifices as "nothing spectacular but a good firm foundation ... on which our future generations will find it easier to build their dreams."

Even though blatant racism is a recognized evil and discrimination is against the law, ours is not a "post-racial" society. Human hatred abides. People are sinful, broken. The United States fails to live up to its promises of equality, success, amity. But Mr. and Mrs. Paik followed God in trust and hope. Mary and H.M. Lee worked hard, studied hard, and honored Christ their whole lives long. And yet they suffered so. More than a few comfortable church people speak blithely of enjoying God's loving care, divine provision, protection, blessing, favor, while caring little for the material needs of brothers and sisters close at hand. Complacent Christians tell tales of sacrifices divinely rewarded, dreams come true, heroism, and happiness. But our plot lines come straight out of the American storybook, not the biblical narrative.

In what Mary calls "the realities of life," the righteous do suffer. She recounts her life story because she "wants young people to know the hardships that Asian immigrants have faced, so that they can appreciate their blessings today." Mary and her family didn't assume that God owed them a life of material security. They didn't interpret their suffering as a sign that God had failed them or that their faith was faulty. They just carried on, repeating that God must surely be leading them in the right direction. Out of their mouths, this is no soothing bromide, no entitled demand. It's a declaration of assurance in God's sufficient abundance.


Here are links to previous City Notes books:

Soli Jesu gloria.




Christ is all,



Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan